Blinded On Christmas Eve
by X1
Summary: One hates, the other loves. Will X be able to remember how to feel love when it counts the most? *Unfinished, Hardly Edited, Pt2 added* Please, R/R. Haven't updated in a while, and pt2's short, but it's something.
1. Default Chapter

**Blinded On Christmas Eve**

_If memory serves correctly, many years have passed in this lifetime, yet none of them holding a moment ever as precious.  Most don't enjoy such times ever often, except those of us with luck enough to have them every so often; as the same goes for those of us on the other side of the spectrum.  _

At this time of the year, as it happened to be 21XX of the Eve of Christmas, many came to be filled with holiday cheer and spirit, those with the luck to have it that is.  However, for those who are less than lacking in good fortunes, we say a resounding, heartfelt "Bah humbug" to the Christmas season and all its aches and pains of naïve feelings of joy, peace, and good will to all.  For what is the reason of the season to those with lost souls, lost heart?  Who of any person gives a care to others than themselves this year?  

Perhaps those who happen to see with eyes unclouded; may their feelings of heart spread on to the heartless, cold demeanors of lost specters.  Let the rain clouds part to reveal the blue sky once more.

"They say he hasn't done anything but skulk around and crash every Christmas party around," Whispered the voice of one hapless hunter to another.  "I've never seen anyone, let alone him, be so Scrooge-ish about the holidays."

"You're kidding!"  Cried the second hunter, looking around to make sure her shout went unnoticed by those other coworkers present.  "How long has he been this way?"

"Ever since the search for Zero gave up, he's been having the sulks, poor guy.  It's hard to lose a friend." Resumed the first person.  He took a sip of eggnog and wrapped an arm around his female cohort, visibly close with her in feelings and spirits.

"At least we have each other and our health.  No need to get riled over some guy who thinks ruining Christmas for everyone's a good time."  She said, nuzzling her friend under the neck.  They smiled to one another, walking off arm in arm, not a care in the world.  

As it happened to be, every member of the esteemed Irregular Hunter squad had feelings of warmth and happiness of the season, with the exception of one whose mirth was cut short and left to rot.  This very man, or rather repliroid, was deemed the blue Grinch of Hunterville.  As the hunters before had conversed over earlier, as well as the rest of Hunter headquarters had stewed over secretly, the literally blue man did what he could, when he could, to reverse the tides and somehow stop Christmas.  

Whenever even something as little as mistletoe was put up to compliment the cold, barren halls of HQ, it was quickly torn down to leave the desolate place once again dry.  This uncanny predicament left the denizens to make merry in their bunkers, or whatever private residence where they might be able to seek comfort from the prying hands of a heartless shell of a man.  

And as it happened to be, the man was left too himself without comfort or aid of any kind; his cohorts far too frightened of his wrath less they be destroyed for tampering with his emotions.  Of course, they knew him to be a good man who wouldn't actually hurt another, but most felt it best not to test the strings of his temper.  In any case, he was alone, brooding in the darkest corners of his abode, far from the cooking fire of his fireplace, far from the door, far from the pictures adorning the walls that held the happy faces of times long passed, faces which had melted away into death, depression, or not even changed at all.  

_Zero… why aren't you here?  I can't fight alone, not alone.  __Anything but that, please.  His mind was in turmoil, it searched for whatever answers he could turn up for his reckless actions of late, the procedures which earned for him the names like 'Grinch', 'Scrooge', or 'Diablo'.  No one understood, no one felt, no one could ever fathom his sorrow.  And no one tried.  "A real, __merry Christmas.  Sure."_

At once, a knock upon his chamber door was heard resonating in his superb hearing.  He pondered whether or not he should open it, asking if he really felt up to it now; but something deep inside his depths urged him against his own will to see what was needed of his time.  

"X?  X, open the door!  It's me, Alia!"  Came the commanding voice of a woman, who most definitely sounded smashed, something not pertaining to the girl's character.  

Almost begrudgingly, the metal frame slid open to reveal the haggard and furrowed brow of X, the famed hunter of the holiday, who gazed at the blonde visage of one of his closest friends, who really did happen to be somewhat smashed at the moment.  X's face changed from his sour look to one of surprise as Alia was quick to collapse on his strong shoulder with a giggle.  He stumbled back inside his room and tried to regain the lost balance he had a moment ago, cursing lightly as the door to his room automatically closed.  _This won't end well…_

"Alia, what's gotten into you?!  You never get drunk!"  The hunter admonished, in a voice that seemed to hold back as much bite as he could, though it didn't help much.  

She sniggered; unaware of what she was really doing.  Had this been under normal circumstances, she wouldn't be caught dead inside X's room, let alone drunk.  There were enough rumors about the two as it was.  "Well, ya see, the boys at the bar-" She stopped momentarily to hiccup.  "They said that I couldn't hold my liquor, and I said I could, but they didn't believe me, so I drunk em under the table I did… I think, at least.  It doesn't really matter though, cause I'm so drunk, I dunno what I'm sayin'!"  She emitted another intoxicated laugh, playfully slapping X's face.

X, on the other hand, wasn't so playful.  He sighed, rolling his eyes as he tried to lay the girl in a comfortable position on his couch.  "God, I don't need this right now…"  He left the rest of the sentence to run in his mind as Alia was caught up in another fit of rolling laughter.  "Just try and get some sleep, would you?  I don't feel like trying to sober you up."

She just stared back at him in a drunken haze.  Her face was blank with curiosity not unlike a child's.  They stayed that way for what seemed like forever; with X peering over her and herself gazing back at him.  "Why're you so grumpy?"  She asked, innocently.

"I'm not grumpy."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Sure ya are."

"…Prove it."  This retort was probably an ill chosen one, formulated by the lack of responses in his repertoire.

"Well, everyone's been calling you names…" Alia said, almost yawning.  

X hesitated.  "Names?  What sort of names?"

"Well," She began, not even thinking of the ill-begot consequences this might entail.  "People've been callin' ya Mr. Scrooge, The Blueberry Grinch, The Ghost of Christmas Never, The Sultan of Twats, er, I meant twit, and The-"

"Enough!  I get the point…"  He screamed, this time not withholding any emotion.  He ran a hand through his short, messy, black locks in effort to calm himself.  Did people really call him that?  Was he really a… 'Blueberry Grinch'?

"See?  You're doing it again."  Alia pointed out with an air of absent-mindedness.

"…"  X sat himself down again beside the drunken girl, who happened to be sitting up again, propped against the fluffy armrest of the couch.  He lowered his head in his hands, breathing in and out of his palms slowly, constantly.  The news was like a bombshell, was he really that bad?  Sure, the hunter had gone off and crashed a few parties, but did that earn him the title of Twit, which he was sure to actually be Twat?

He looked up again when he felt the pain of a fist pounding his arm.  Alia had smacked him one.  "What's the matter little guy?  You got the… blues?"  She stifled a laugh from her obvious pun on X's choice of armor colors.

"Quit it."  He sighed, avoiding his visitor's gaze.

"…I think you need some alcohol.  Me too, now that I think it."

His eyes widened in terror.  "Oooh no.  No more drinking for you, ever."  _Getting your pretty little hands on another bloody marry would be the last thing I need right about now.  _

His partner's face dropped with a look of disappointment; she was almost like a child now.  "Oh, you're no fun.  I'm just trying to make you a bit happier.  Say, what _is bothering you?"_

X turned away from her this time, as if he was expecting such a question.  "None of your business."

"Oh c'mon!  Won't you tell even me, one of your oldest friends?"  She cried, slinging an arm around X's neck and drawing him in close to her.  She rubbed her cheek against his in mock distress, feigning sorrow.

The hunter tried his best to keep the feral growl in his throat from pushing out, but at best he could only suppress it enough that is came out as a meek purr.  His cheeks blushed, not too comfortable in the proximity exhibited by the situation.  "Why do you care?  Not like anyone else does."

This time, Alia actually was hurt, and expressed it so by pushing X away far enough to look him straight in the eye.  She actually seemed distressed by her friend's vexations, her eyes full of real, genuine concern.  The girl could actually pass for sober, that is to say, if she wasn't so wasted.  "Hey, look at me now."  She whispered, trying to stop X from avoiding her baby blues.  She took an ungloved hand, running her fingertips across his jaw, turning it to line his sight with hers finally.  "Don't say that, you know we're here for you.  You know I'm here for you."  

At this, X scoffed, still trying to pull away from her grasp.  "As if.  Everyone's too happy and busy being merry to notice the fact that Zero's still gone.  Without him here… it's just not right."  He jerked away once more, his face downcast once more.

She understood now, what was eating him away.  The fact that he had lost his best friend was one thing, but the fact that no one cared about the loss was another, more destructive thing.  It was true that after a spell, no one cared to even think about the lost comrade in red, and she guessed that it really would hurt to watch while everyone moved on while he stayed back with his fallen memories.  "You can't mourn him forever."  She murmured, almost scared to say it; and rightly so, as X jumped away from her presence, waving a hand to dispel her words of comfort.  His eyes shut tightly to fight the oncoming tears.

"Just you watch me!  Even if I'm the last one to, I'll remember him!  I won't forget like the rest of you!"  His voice began to waver, shuddering in concordance with his body.

Alia nodded calmly, reaching out to hold his rough hands in her own.  They hadn't ever been so rough before.  "But don't you see?  We haven't forgotten Zero, we've just recognized that… that…"  She faltered, desperately searching for the right words under X's bleeding watch.  "…that he's gone.  You have to accept that he won't be around anymore to protect us.  You have to stand up…"

"'Stand up'?"  He yelled desperately, his mind was in turmoil.  "You're telling me to stand up?!  When haven't I stood?  Was it when the 5th war broke out?  Or was it the 6th, the one where I fought on alone?  Tell me Alia, when haven't I stood?!"  He was raving now, with his hands clutching at the hairs atop his head.  

Alia could only watch in astonishment.  Her choice of words had been poor, it was true, but she hadn't finished talking yet.  So, she went on, trying to pacify this raging storm.  "…You need to stand up and be a man.  Realize that you aren't alone in this, that I'm right there with you!"  Normally, Alia was calm and cool, always keeping her head even in the direst of situations.  However, this time she couldn't help but shed tears of hurt at how her feelings for X went unnoticed.  "Merry Christmas."  She added, getting up and dashing from the small room and out of X's reach.

So there stood a bedazzled and once incorrigible man, who berated himself for being so blind and caught up in his own remorse that he didn't see what was before him.  However, this time, he didn't sit idly by and watch his world float away.


	2. Part 2

**Pzzat**** to the Deucey**

Snowflakes; such a gentile creation.  Each piece of frost floats down with a new face to show the world each time, and with that new face, comes with it the old weakness and susceptibleness to the world.  And, as if the world were the same from beginning to this present time, so did the flakes continue their tradition of blanketing the earth with a frosty mask.  Yet this year, the mask was hard and cold enough to even guard against the warmest heart of hearts.

At least, that's how things seemed to Alia as she trudged down the streets of the lighted night.  The evening was glittered not with stars, but rather the blinking neon lights of commerce and the flashy signs of the new generation.  Even now did they try to sell what wears that could be bought to those foolish enough to buy.  However, in these late hours, the lights soon began to fade, being blotted out by the cold existence of darkness, either of the earth, or of the heart.  

Darkness, by nature, has a tendency to spread to whatever it touches, thereby engulfing all.  Such dangerous hands of ice ought not to hold the warmth of hearts, and may all precautions go towards keeping one's heart away from this pain.  But destiny deems that hearts fall into darkness.  That is the way of things, even for the warmest heart.  Such is the nature of existence.  

Alia herself, though being of usual high spirits and unyielding determination, could feel the heat of her passions slipping away and become overtaken by the ebbing hands of torment.  To herself did she mutter strange streams of obscenities, as well as strings of curses and damnations, all in the general direction of the only person whose blue exterior could match the blues of her soul.  

"How could he be so cold…?" She whispered.  "So trite…?" She mumbled louder this time, but still it would remain unintelligible to whoever was crazy as her to be out so late, especially this night.  "So… so self absorbed?!  Doesn't he understand anything?"  For what must have been the third time that night, the spotter's usual calm shell was broken.  The blonde's boots seemed to stomp harder with each step she dared to step on the cold winter's night, packing the snow down like a steam roller. She had continued this brooding spell ever since she had ran from the base earlier that night, which admittedly, wasn't her best idea.  Instead of blaming her rash actions on herself though, she rather placed the blame on the shoulders of X, whose frigid exterior could put out even the hottest blaze.  Perhaps it was the alcohol which deemed her the supreme commander of allied forces, but she truly felt betrayed by his inability to see what stood right before him.

"It doesn't matter," She seemed to whisper to herself again, reasoning with her abstract mind.  "It's just that his typical, chauvinistic, totally male actions are worse than ever!"  Alia emphasized the last few adjectives, puffing out a cloud of hot air with each word.  A few moments of silence went on after this, until she stopped herself and released a turgid scream of inner agony, which was the only thing holding her back from ripping her own golden locks from her head. 

"Oi, oi!  Spazzing like that'll only result in ruining that perfect face of yours, babe," Came the snotty, casual voice of a very nosy person.  "Or, maybe it'll be me?"  

Alia turned in the direction the voice came from, ready and able to bite back with the ill-tempered retort of a feral woman; the most dangerous kind of creature.  However, this was not be, as what seemed to be the large hand her all-too-friendly company slamming into her cranium.  The blow was mighty, and it sent her crashing to the ground.  By luck, her fall was cushioned by the fluffy culmination of snow, but by luck again, she found herself trapped in the white layers, unable to move according to the words of the mad shouts of protest coming from within her mind.

Like a spider settling on its prey, so did the attacker as he straddled Alia, using his weight to his advantage over her.  Then, seeing as how he held the upper hand in this situation, he began to taunt her, saying "See, babe?  You're doing it again!"

Hot tears of confused emotions began to seep into the snow, melting it.  Tracing the river of pain back to its source would lead to Alia, as she cried out in the pain and bewildered effects of the moment.  She lost control of her body, and was only able to scream in protests as her artificial body was in the first stages of rape.  Where was he?  Where was her knight now in the time of her deepest need?

(I don't feel like writing anymore, so there ya go, short chapter. Ha.)


	3. Part 34

**Can You Hear?**

            The stars are wonderful things this time of night.  X gazed up at the stars mindlessly, clutching his black cloak closer to himself whilst watching the earth turn slowly in the revolutions of the universe.  It was an odd thing; that it was, that things had come to this.  Where did everything fall apart, and where did he lose…

            He continued down the streets in a restless, wandering search.  The streets where empty now, though earlier there were many festivities about for the occasion.  The streetlamps were adorned from fixture to fixture, crisscrossing the streets with furry tinsels of gold and silvers.  Massive buildings of indisputable size and small corner shops all met with each other a common goal in these days, as each held within themselves messages of kind greetings of cheery holiday seasons.  It was so colorful now; a great contrast to the rusty grays of the normal city life, so hectic and worrisome.  Now was the time to enjoy, and now was the time to partake in the happiness that was the holidays with those that truly mattered.

As it just so happened, the wanderer had made his way into the great town square, standing before a giant of a pine, also decorated with the most intricate and defined ornaments of handcrafted legend.  It loomed over him in almost an ominous way as the shadows of the light of the moon were cast upon him, his armor reflecting the pale light.  For a moment, he could only stand there, beholding the mighty tree in its entire splendor while images of people passed through his mind's eye.  Everyone was there, standing around and before him with smiling faces; each man and woman whom he had met in the past was there, good and bad, it didn't matter.  

Dr. Light, Sigma, Double, Zero; they were all present and accounted for.  The coffee boys, Douglas, the technician girls, Signas, and Dr. Cain too, they greeted him kindly.  Each to his own, Vile, Serges, Gate, Bit; they were all there to greet him a fond hello, and to celebrate the new day; that is to say, all except for the one.  He desperately shook away the calming feeling that the others bestowed upon him and X tried to look around his comrades for the missing sheep of the herd.  Gently, he was able to force his way out of the crowd, just long enough to see the slim retreating form slip away into the shadows.  The hunter's eyes widened considerably, so much so that he had to shake his head vigorously to finally rid himself of the opening view, though this ultimately lead to the fading away of the visions completely.  At once, X desperately tried to call out to his soon disappearing friends.  He dashed from one to the other as was closest, reaching out to touch each one, but ending up punching his fists through the weightless images of the fallen.

At end's meet, the lone champion fell on his knees.  His hands gripped the icy stone floors with all their might, crushing the floors with his untapped strength.  His very body shook bitterly and against his own restraint.  _What does it matter… fighting from one to the next?  After all my efforts there is still nothing to show from them, and how very pointless my struggle is now...  I can hardly stand, much less fight anymore… what am I even fighting for? Or for who…?_

Bending question after question assaulted him, tearing his resolve away to the ground.  Fragmented tears of memories began to drip away from him, fading away as fast as time itself and leaving him empty and alone.  The streaming emotion flooding his body left him shriveled, curling him on the floor like some discarded paper.  He fell silent; not even his grief could be heard.

Yes, so silent indeed that even a calming terror was lifted from under X's cowardice.  Gentle sobs dipped over the horizon, tapping the soul like pebbles over a lake.  Yes, he knew that voice, so very dear to him it was.  Slowly the hunter's head began to rise with a look of dismemberment on his stricken face.  His eyes slowly traced the voice and the pure trepidation he felt alone compelled him follow it, leading him to the corner of a small, back alley.  He stopped though, just before turning that dreadful corner.  The champion's legs trembled and a film of cold sweat was forming under his helmet.  His green eyes could barely blink and his hands gripped and slacked without certainty.  Smacking his lips X soon found how dry his mouth had become, and he bet that if he could look in the mirror, he would see a great loss of color.  Another soft whimper crept past him.  The hunter finally clenched his hands in determination, steeling himself as his first foot stepped past the corner to behold what fate dealt him.

"Al…"  It was all X could do to not puke, much less speak her name at the sight.  Before him was a vision, not of loveliness, but of a ghastly scene.  At the end of that passage, pinned high against the wall by a spike in each hand and one through both feet, was a grisly crucifixion, a mock out of Christ Himself done in the crudest of manners.  Even a cross of blood was still being outlined around her naked body, beaten and bruised as it was, by the perpetrator.

**Wanderlust…**

The latter, just now becoming aware of the hunter's presence, turned to greet him with a great grin.  "Oh?  My first onlooker!"  His face was big, but the grin on it was bigger, eclipsing it even.  He rushed to X's side, turning to face his work as if it was from the hero's point of view so as to full appreciate it.  "Isn't it magical?"  He said gleefully.  "It's my masterpiece!  But what to call it, what to call it?  Hmm…" nodding his head down in thought, the reploid began to ponder, "… maybe 'Acquiescence'?  No, more like 'Babe in Red'."  On and on the self proclaimed artist went, sometimes murmuring simple muses, other times seemingly proclaiming his ideas to the little world in that alley.  

And yet, it was all lost upon X, somewhere in between his ears in the tiny, still small fire brewing inside him; some indisputable rage that had been dwelling inside his depths for far too long, eating away at his soul like termites to wood.  Years ago, when he began to finish these wars, it had seemed like he had lost bits of himself along the way, gradually losing buoyancy and sinking into the choking sands of self destruction.  Now, like a giant hand had come down to the sinking sands, but rather than taking the hunter's hand and lifting him from despair, it had driven him past the point of no return.  There was no going back, no point in any of it really.

So the still small fire ceased to be, bursting into a great inferno.  "Or maybe 'Sleeping Beauty'?  Oh!  How about 'Painting Distress'!"  The maniac hadn't stopped rambling, as if there wasn't another living soul there with him.  Perhaps he was subconsciously correct, but instead of becoming aware of anything outside his obsession, he opted for a different route.  "…it's not quite right.  Perhaps it needs a little more tweaking.   A slash here, a splatter there…"  He started towards his "art" reaching for the knife concealed in the small of his back.  

Before he had taken more than four steps to Alia's frigid body, he raised the small dagger, poising for a strike when a small bullet of energy blew past him, smoke lifting from where it had grazed his left earlobe.   Whipping around he was greeted with four knuckles colliding into his poorly-battle equipped cheeks.  The force of X's attack was enough to effectively shatter the monster's metal jaw and plastering him to the titanium wall at the end of the alley.  He coughed, sputtering a bit of fluid onto the floor.  "What?!" he cried in astonishment.  "Can't you appreciate the art of Wanderjahr, the magnificent?  Is it not beautiful?  Is _it not _wonderful_?  **It** is my masterpiece!"  _

Coal in the furnace, that's all it was to X.  With another burst of fury he was upon the artisan, savagely beating him against the wall with his barren fists, shadowed over by Alia's body.  With each blow to his midsection, face, everywhere, the wall bent a little more.  Steadying his body by placing his hand on Wanderjahr's shoulder, X drew his hand back for a killer blow.  With a few feet of distance between them now, each repliroid was given a good view of what each other looked like now.

From X's perspective, the fiend might have just been a pile of mush, as his body had been transformed into a variable play doe with his strength.  His blood was splattered against the wall, dripping into a second pool on the floor.  It wasn't until he had seen the second pool that he had noticed the first pool, and traced it back to the bloody cross… and the multiple gashes inflicted upon her skin to make that symbol.  His normally green eyes, quoted to be the most serene eyes a person had seen, had changed, reflecting the precious blood and his own boiling anger, mixing them into one.  His drawn back hand quivered now, shivering with the hot tears, or as it could be said, the blood of his broken heart.  They ran along his distressed face, hitting his lips and running into his open mouth, their salty taste seasoning his soul.  

On the other end of the long tunnel, since the beatings Wanderjarh received had caused him to see in a tunnel vision, his view was perhaps more than just slightly skewed.  A might gust had blown, blowing the man's cloak before him and unwrapping the mystery of his assailant, if only slightly.  The cloths opened, revealing a light blue armor, nothing special.  Though it might have only been attributed to the head trauma, Wanderjarh could have sworn something wasn't right with this reploid.  Yes, he saw it now.  That armor… was melting away.  That hellfire in the attacker's eyes, yes, it was a blaze scorching enough to burn away the shell holding him to the wall, and to reveal the truth of behind it all.  

It was true, X's armor was melting away, falling off of him like meat on well made ribs.  With a low and guttural cry emitting from the both of them, his fist crashed into the artiste, his face exploding into a mass of metal and a spurt of the reploid's "blood", the sound trailing the sonic boom created by the fist.

X let the corpse drop then, as did his arms to his side.  That last spurt of blood had covered his body, dribbling down crevices and curves not there before.  Yes, his anger had burned the old away and it was blown like ashes through the late air.  He stood upright in his darkened armor, hardly noticing how free his power had become because of it and its "human" design.  Looking up, he bit his lip as the weight of Alia's death was finally given time to crush him thoroughly.  Her body wasn't equipped like a war reploid's.  Where they had the ability to be easily resurrected for more fighting, she was built more human-like.  Repair was not an option here, not anymore at least.  Just seeing her in such a position was enough to water his eyes, even though his body was drained as it was.  

Wiping his eyes as best he could, the champion took his love down from her perch and wrapped her body up, leaving her face uncovered so he could gaze upon it one more time.  Suddenly, it was as if biting his lip wasn't enough for X anymore as more bitter tears broke what little dams he had been able to build within himself.  He couldn't help it; Alia seemed so serene right now, like she was sleeping back in the Hunter Headquarters and none of this had ever happened.  

It was his fault, he knew it.  His feelings had gotten the better of him once again, and they always did.  X brought her body into a tender embrace, hugging her as tight as he would dare.  His hand pushed her head against his shoulder, resting it there as he let himself pretend she was sleeping under his gentle protection.  With all the love he had neglected to show her before, he made his feelings clear now, and though she could not see his affection, he still hoped that wherever she was, that she'd would know how deeply he truly felt for her.

Nothing would make it better.

From his perch on the roof of an overlooking building, a solitary figure watched it all unfold.  He sighed, turning and fading away into the night with the picture of the two engraved into his heart and soul.  Brushing a blonde lock from his eyes, he pondered deeply about lessons long taught to him by life.

_If memory serves correctly, many years have passed in this lifetime, yet none of them holding a moment ever as precious.  Most don't enjoy such times ever often, except those of us with luck enough to have them every so often; as the same goes for those of us on the other side of the spectrum**.  However, there is always the one who dwells in-between.  **_****


End file.
